Page 27 of For Her
She reaches in the bag and then over her shoulder to feed me one of her chips, and I snatch it out of her hand with my mouth making her giggle, and I give her a spicy kiss.
Mayzie
Fucker!
Dipshit!
Twat waffle!
Douche-fucking-canoe!
Don’t mind me, I’m just inwardly wielding insults at themotherfuckingshitheadasswipewho apparently can’t breathe unless he’s jerking someone’s chain, as I try to dance away my frustration in the dining room.
I’m warm, my heart is racing along, and the baby is kicking away, when I hear the driveway buzzer go off. I glide over to the intercom to see it’s my brother, Ian, and buzz him through before killing the hard hitting rock music I had going on the sound system.
After a light knock, my brother enters through the front door, carrying a small tote bag.
“Hey,” I greet as I pick up a magazine from the table and start to fan myself.
“Hey, preggo,” he replies, kicking his shoes off and sauntering into the room.
“What’ve you got there?” I ask, placing a hand on my belly, hoping it calms the little being inside who doesn’t seem to realize the dance session has ceased.
“Some stuff Mom wanted me to drop off on my way to the shop. Some more onesies, socks, and bibs for the little guy, as well as another six pack of ginger ale. I think you’re keeping Vernors in business.”
“Yeah, well, if I didn’t feel like ralphing seventeen hours out of the day,” I grumble as I pull the pack of cans from the bag and head to the refrigerator with them.
“Speaking of which, you don’t look so good,” he offers, as he swipes up my bag of jalapeno chips and helps himself.
“Thanks. You’re a real comfort,” I return cynically.
“Seriously, you’re all flushed. What were you doing just now, training for Iron Man or something?”
“Very funny. I was dancing,” I respond as I walk past him, snatching my chips away from him as I go.
“Dancing to what? Death metal? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you break a sweat before,” he continues, following me into the living room.
“Yeah, well, I had some serious frustrations to work through.”
“Is that good for the kid, shaking around like that? Aren’t you supposed to be doing your weird yoga, meditation shit or something?”
If he only knew.
“The baby’s fine. He’s basically cocooned in a warm little water bed,” I place a hand on my stomach where I still feel him kicking.
“Lucky him,” he snorts as he picks up the TV remote. I set my chips down on the coffee table and start straightening the pillows and throw blankets on the couch. Seems the nesting bug has hit me because I seem to get antsy at every little thing out of place.
“So how much longer?” he asks, still munching on my chips while he flips through channels on the remote. “I feel like you’ve been pregnant forever.”
“Youfeel like I’ve been pregnant forever?” I mock up at him, as I drape the folded blanket over the back of the couch.
“And you keep expanding. How much longer before you blow up?”
“My belly isn’t growing nearly as fast as your ego, dick.”
“It’s awesome, I can finally make fun of you for being fat,” he continues, and I feel that eerie spark ignite deep down in my soul. I’ve had enough. But here’s his mistake - his eyes are trained on the TV and his guard is totally down. Before you can say the words,Ian is a pussy,I’m across the room with my elbow locked around his neck.
“Ow! What the fuck, Maze? This shit again?” he shrieks exasperatedly from his crouched over position, the bag of chips getting jostled around.